


Let Our Candle Always Burn

by LukeSkywalkersChanelBoots



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LukeSkywalkersChanelBoots/pseuds/LukeSkywalkersChanelBoots
Summary: BLACK AND LUPIN STILL AT LARGESirius Black and Remus Lupin, possibly the most infamous prisoners ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, are still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today. “We are doing all we can to recapture Lupin and Black,” said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first fic, so if you catch anything, let me know in the comments! (Britpicking especially welcome)

Sirius skidded around the street corner. Unknown to him, Remus did the same on the other side of the street, chasing him. Focused on their targets, he bowled over several of the passerby as he ran. Nothing mattered except catching him. Wormtail would _pay_.

Peter ran into the street, dodging the cars. Remus wondered vaguely why Sirius was chasing Peter, since Sirius had been the double agent, but it was nothing more than a passing thought. Sirius followed Peter onto the road, cornering him near the street divider. Peter scrambled backwards, but there was nowhere to go.

When Remus caught up to them, Peter was sobbing. “Lily and James, Sirius! How could-?” And then he caught sight of Remus, and a strange look passed over his face, before he continued. “And you, Remus! How could you?”

As the words registered, horrified realization washed over Remus. He ran through the possibilities. _Why would Peter-? Was it him, all along?_ He started to speak. “Sirius-!”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sirius’s head whipped around, and a thousand emotions played across his face-hope, fear, grief and something that was just Sirius. He dropped his wand. He barely registered its clatter as it hit the ground. Remus was still pointing his wand at him. The three of them stood there in silence, and time seemed to freeze.The moment broke all too fast, and Remus twisted his body to fire at Peter, a ferocious snarl escaping his mouth. But Peter was faster.

The street lit up, and the explosion that shook Sirius down to his core. In the midst of the chaos, he saw the finger drop. He saw the rats scurrying in the open sewer. And he knew. _It’s over,_ he thought faintly. _There was no hope of catching him now._ And then he saw Remus again. _Fuck._

“Moony, I-” He cut himself off as he saw what Remus was seeing for the first time. They were on the edge of a crater. Muggles, all around them, screaming from the street’s edge and those who’d been near Peter, dead.

“We have to get out of here before they set up wards.”

“What?”Sirius's brain head was spinning. _He knew? He still trusts me?_

“The Ministry will be here any minute, we have to leave, Sirius.” There was no light in Remus’s face. It was blank; devoid of emotion. Sirius supposed both of them were still in shock. And then they heard the telltale pops of Apparition.

“Remus, go! I’ll be right behind you!” He shouted. _Where the fuck was his wand?_ “Not without you!” Remus was setting up defensive spells, and his voice cracked. “We’ve lost enough already, I'm not going to lose you too-”

“Go!”

Sirius supposed it was the desperation that did it, but Remus finally gave him a sharp nod.

“If you’re not with me in a few minutes,” Remus grabbed him in a rough hug and held on tight.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“I will come back for you, Sirius Orion Black. I love you. And don’t you dare forget it.” Remus whispered.

A second later, Remus Disapparates. The first Ministry officers break through the crowd. Sirius Black takes it all in, and starts to laugh.


	2. The Knight Bus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Some of this chapter was taken almost directly from the book, so if it seems really familiar, that's why.

Newly 13 years old, a wizard, and running away from Privet Drive, Harry Potter sat down on the kerb and thought. And panicked. Whichever way he looked at it, he had never been in a worse fix. He was stranded, quite alone, with absolutely nowhere to go. And the worst of it was, he had just done serious magic, which meant that he was almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts. He had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, he was surprised Ministry of Magic representatives weren’t swooping down on him where he sat.

Harry shivered in the moonless night, and looked up at the stars.

What was going to happen to him? Would he be arrested, or would he simply be outlawed from the wizarding world? He thought of Ron and Hermione, and his heart sank even lower. Harry was sure that, criminal or not, Ron and Hermione would want to help him now, but they were both on vacation with their families, and with Hedwig gone, he had no means of contacting them. He didn’t have any Muggle money, either. There were a few Galleons in the money bag at the bottom of his trunk, but the rest of the fortune his parents had left him was stored in a vault at Gringotts in London. He’d never be able to drag his trunk all the way to London. Unless…

An idea began to form in Harry’s mind. Looking down at his wand, he realized that if he was already expelled (and oh, didn’t that hurt to think about), a bit more magic wouldn’t change that. He had his father's Invisibility Cloak — what if he spelled the trunk to make it feather-light, tied it to his broomstick, covered himself in the cloak, and flew to London? Then he could get the rest of his money out of his vault and… begin his life as an outcast.

It was a horrible prospect, but he couldn’t sit on this wall forever, or he’d find himself trying to explain to the police why he was out in the dead of night with a trunk full of spell books and a broomstick. He opened his trunk and rummaged inside, looking for the Cloak. A funny prickling on the back of his neck made Harry feel he was being watched, but when he looked up, the street was just as empty and dark as before.

He bent over his trunk again, but almost immediately stood up once more, his hand clenched on his wand. He had sensed rather than heard it: someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind him. Harry squinted at the black alleyway. If only it would move, then he’d know whether it was just a stray cat or — something else. His mind flashed back to earlier that day.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The reporter on the television was halfway through a report on two escaped convicts.

“… the public is warned that Lupin and Black are armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sightings of either man should be reported immediately.”

“No need to tell us they’re no good,” snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. “Look at the state of them, the filthy layabouts! Look at their hair!”

He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Compared the pictures on the television, however, in which Black, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, and Lupin's greying, thinning mop, Harry felt very well groomed indeed.

The reporter had reappeared. “The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today —”

“Hang on!” barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter. “You didn’t tell us where those maniacs ’ escaped from! What use is that? Lunatics could be coming up the street right now!”

Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. Harry knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hotline number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors.

“When will they learn,” said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, “that hanging’s the only way to deal with these people?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Lumos,” Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him. He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes. 

Harry stepped backward. His legs hit his trunk and he tripped. His wand flew out of his hand as he flung out an arm to break his fall, and he landed, hard, in the gutter. There was a deafening BANG, and Harry threw up his hands to shield his eyes against a sudden blinding light.

With a yell, Harry scrambled back onto the pavement- and just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt exactly where Harry had just been lying. They belonged, as Harry saw when he raised his head, to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled The Knight Bus. For a split second, Harry wondered if he had been knocked silly by his fall. Then a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve—”

The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry, who was still sitting on the ground. Harry snatched up his wand again and scrambled to his feet. Close up, he saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than he was, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large, protruding ears and quite a few pimples.

“What were you doin’ down there?” said Stan, dropping his professional manner.

“I-fell over,” said Harry, quite confused as to where the bus had appeared from.

“’Choo fall over for?” sniggered Stan.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” said Harry, annoyed. One of the knees in his jeans was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding. He suddenly remembered why he had fallen over and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and fence. The Knight Bus’s headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty.

“‘Choo lookin’ at?” said Stan.

“There was a big black thing,” said Harry, pointing uncertainly into the gap. “Like a dog… but massive…,”

He looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Harry saw Stan’s eyes move to the scar on Harry’s forehead.

“Woss that on your ‘ead?” said Stan abruptly.

"Nothing." Harry did his best to flatten his hair over his scar.

"Woss your name?"

“Neville Longbottom,” Harry, saying the first name that came into his head. “So — so this bus,” he went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, “did you say it goes anywhere?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Harry paid for a ride to the Leaky Cauldron, he and Stan lifted his trunk, with Hedwig’s cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus. There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, “Not now, thanks, I’m pickling some slugs” and rolled over in his sleep.

“You ’ave this one,” Stan whispered, shoving Harry’s trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. “This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Neville Longbottom, Ern.”

Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to Harry, who nervously flattened his bangs again and sat down on his bed.

“Take’er away, Ern,” said Stan.

The bus disappeared into the night.


	3. History Lessons, Part 1

Padfoot slunk back into the shadows as the Knight Bus appeared. He watched as Harry stared into the darkness, not daring to reveal himself. As the bus flashed into the night, Padfoot left the shadows and came to stand in the middle of the street. 

He was soon joined by his companion, and together they disappeared from Magnolia Crescent.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“Lupin murdered thirteen people?” said Harry, handing the page back to Stan, “with one curse?” 

“Yep,” said Stan, “in front of witnesses an’ all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?” 

“Ar,” said Ern darkly. 

Stan swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Harry.

“They woz big supporters of You-Know-’Oo,” he said. 

“What, Voldemort?” said Harry, without thinking. 

Even Stan’s pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus. 

“You outta your tree?” yelped Stan. “’Choo say ’is name for?”

“Sorry,” said Harry hastily. “Sorry, I — I forgot —” 

“Forgot!” said Stan weakly. “Blimey, my ’eart’s goin’ that fast…” 

“So — so Lupin and Black were supporters of You-Know-Who?” Harry prompted apologetically.

“Yeah,” said Stan, still rubbing his chest. “Yeah, that’s right. Very close to You-Know-’Oo, they say… anyway, when little ‘Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-’Oo” — Harry nervously flattened his bangs down again — “all You-Know-’Oo’s supporters was tracked down, wasn’t they, Ern? Most of ‘em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-’Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black and Remus Lupin…

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Remus stumbled over an inconveniently placed stone.  _ Well, that's certainly new.  _ He hadn’t been back to his childhood home since... well suffice to say it had been a long time. In fact, the only contact he’d had with his father the entire year was birthday correspondence. It had simply been too dangerous to maintain regular contact with family for most people. Luckily, the ward recognized him and allowed him to pass through.

Remus ran up to the door.

“Dad! It’s me, Remus!”  _ Please be home, please don’t have gone somewhere else, please be- _

“Son?”

The door opened.

_ Thank Merlin.  _ Remus sagged in relief.

“Not so fast,” Lyall was still in the doorway, blocking the entrance to his home. “When-”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Surrender, Black!” 

Sirius laughed.

“You’re surrounded!”

Sirius laughed.

“Do you surrender?”

Sirius laughed. The Aurors approached, hesitantly. 

“Accio wand!”

It was too bad. Sirius had always rather liked his wand.  _ Guess I’m not seeing my wand again. _

_ \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- _

_ “- _ did you decide that you wanted to name your pet goldfish Swimderella?”

“Never,” Remus, grinning shortly. “ I’d found a  _ tarantula _ , and I named it  _ Spinderella. _ ”

Lyall hurried Remus inside, as the smile slid off his face. Remus grabbed his father's shoulders.

“I left him, they’ll get Sirius, Dad, I have to go back-” Remus was truly panicking now. he turned around to leave, and go back but Lyall grabbed his arm and pulled him to a chair.

“Hold on son," Lyall was confused. "What happened? Start from the beginning.” 

“You don’t understand, they’re dead, and I just abandoned him there, he told me to leave but I-”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“-left Black there. An’ you know what Black did then?” Stan continued in a dramatic whisper. 

“What?” said Harry. 

“Laughed,” said Stan. “Jus’ stood there an’ laughed. An’ when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, ‘e went wiv em quiet as anyfink, still laughing ‘is ‘ead off. ‘Cos ‘e’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?” 

“If he weren’t when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,” said Ern in his slow voice. “I’d blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you… after what he did…” 

“And Lupin?” Asked Harry. "What about him? 

Stan’s face grew dark. “Everyone knew Black and Lupin were best friends. I even ‘eard-" Stan shook his head and continued. "N ever mind. So after the Ministry’d got Black, ‘ey sent people to look for Lupin too.” 

“And?” Harry was entirely caught up in the story now.

“‘Ey found ‘im, didn’ they, Ern?”

“Ar, not for years though.” Ern shuddered. “They only got him in ‘89, didn' they, Stan? He must have been wandering around the world, learning all kinds or Dark Magic.”

“An’ that’s not even the worst part,” Stan was morbidly excited. “Lupin, e- ”

“Stan!” Ern’s tone was warning. 

“An’ now ‘ey’re out,” said Stan abrubtly, examining the newspaper picture of Black’s gaunt face again. “Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, ‘as there, Ern? Beats me ‘ow ‘ey did it. Frightenin’, eh? Mind, I don’t fancy their chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?” 

Ernie suddenly shivered. “Talk about summat else, Stan, there’s a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles.” 

  
  


Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and Harry leaned against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever. He couldn’t help imagining what Stan might be telling his passengers in a few nights’ time.

“‘Ear about that ‘Arry Potter? Blew up ‘is aunt! We ‘ad ‘im ‘ere on the Knight Bus, di’n’t we, Ern? ‘E was tryin’ to run for it…” 

He, Harry, had broken wizard law just like Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Was inflating Aunt Marge bad enough to land him in Azkaban? Harry didn’t know anything about the wizard prison, though everyone he’d ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone. Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had spent two months there only last year. Harry wouldn’t soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid’s face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people Harry knew.

The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees, and Harry lay, restless and miserable, on his feather bed. After a while, Stan remembered that Harry had paid for hot chocolate, but poured it all over Harry’s pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesea to Aberdeen. One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all looked very pleased to go. 

Finally, Harry was the only passenger left.

“Right then, Neville,” said Stan, clapping his hands, “whereabouts in London?” 

“Diagon Alley,” said Harry. 

“Righto,” said Stan. “’Old tight, then.” 

BANG. 

They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Harry sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus’s way. The sky was getting a little lighter. He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off — where, he didn’t know. 

Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and shabby looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads Up:  
> Starting soon, I will be doing my best to post on a schedule- about 1 chapter a week, posted on the weekend.


	4. History Lessons, Part 2

“Thanks,” Harry said to Ern. 

He jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig’s cage onto the pavement.

“Well,” said Harry. “Bye then!” 

But Stan wasn’t paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

“There you are, Harry,” said a voice. 

Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Stan shouted, “Blimey! Ern, come ‘ere! Come ‘ere!” 

Harry looked up at the owner of the hand on his shoulder and felt a bucketful of ice cascade into his stomach — he had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself. 

_Oh no._ Harry thought. _There goes my chance of escape._

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

“Sit down, Harry,” said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire. 

Harry sat down, feeling goose bumps rising up his arms despite the glow of the fire. Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite Harry.

“I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic.” 

Harry already knew this, of course; he had seen Fudge before, when Hagrid was arrested. But since he and Ron had been hiding under the Cloak, Fudge wasn’t to know that. Why was he being so nice though? Come to think of it, why would the Minister show up to arrest a kid-even if he was Harry Potter?

“I broke the law!” Harry said. “The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!” 

“Oh, my dear boy, we’re not going to punish you for a little thing like that!” cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. “It was an accident! We don’t send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!” 

But this didn’t tally at all with Harry’s past dealings with the Ministry of Magic. 

“Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle’s house!” he told Fudge, frowning. “The Ministry of Magic said I’d be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!” 

Unless Harry’s eyes were deceiving him, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward. 

“Circumstances change, Harry… We have to take into account… in the present climate… Surely you don’t want to be expelled?” 

“Of course I don’t,” said Harry. 

“Well then, what’s all the fuss about?” laughed Fudge. “Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom’s got a room for you.” 

Fudge strode out of the parlor and Harry stared after him. There was something extremely odd going on. Why had Fudge been waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish him for what he’d done?

When Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper, Harry followed, his mind whirling.

“Room eleven’s free, Harry,” said Fudge. “I think you’ll be very comfortable just one thing, and I’m sure you’ll understand… I don’t want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you’re to be back here before dark each night. Sure you’ll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me.” 

“Okay,” said Harry slowly, “but why?” 

“Don’t want to lose you again, do we?” said Fudge with a hearty laugh. 

“No, no… best we know where you are… I mean…” Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cloak. 

“Well, I’ll be off, plenty to do, you know…” 

“Have you had any luck with Lupin and Black yet?” Harry asked. 

Fudge’s finger slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak. 

“What’s that? Oh, you’ve heard - well, no, not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed… and they are angrier than I’ve ever seen them.” 

Fudge shuddered slightly.

“So, I’ll say good-bye.” 

He held out his hand and Harry, shaking it, had a sudden idea. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sirius, you great idiot!” Remus was pacing along the edge of their camp.

“But-”

“No, Sirius, it’s too dangerous! What if someone had seen you? You know that the Ministry’s even told the Muggle Government about us, how could you do something so stupid? If they caught you, they wouldn’t hesitate to give you the Kiss! I- i cannot believe-” Remus was pulling at his rapidly graying hair.

“Well, you see, Remus-”

“Yes?”

“Harry saw me.”

Remus froze. “Harry what?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took Harry several days to get used to his strange new freedom. Never before had he been able to get up whenever he wanted or eat whatever he fancied. He could even go wherever he pleased, as long as it was in Diagon Alley, and as this long cobbled street was packed with the most fascinating wizarding shops in the world, Harry felt no desire to break his word to Fudge and stray back into the Muggle world. He really wished Fudge hag signed his Hogsmeade form, though. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d refused in part because of whatever strange reason he had wanted Harry to stay in the Alley.

Harry ate breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where he liked watching the other guests: funny little witches from the country, up for a day’s shopping; venerable-looking wizards arguing over the latest article in Transfiguration Today; wild-looking warlocks; raucous dwarfs; and once, someone who looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of raw liver from behind a thick woolen balaclava. After breakfast Harry would go out into the backyard, take out his wand, tap the third brick from the left above the trash bin, and stand back as the archway into Diagon Alley opened in the wall. 

Harry spent the long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where his fellow diners were showing one another their purchases (“It’s a lunascope, old boy — no more messing around with moon charts, see?”) or else discussing the case of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin (“Personally, I won’t let any of the children out alone until they’re back in Azkaban”). Harry didn’t have to do his homework under the blankets by flashlight anymore; now he could sit in the bright sunshine outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, finishing all his essays with occasional help from Florean Fortescue himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch burnings, gave Harry free sundaes every half an hour. 

Once Harry had refilled his money bag with gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts from his vault at Gringotts, he had to exercise a lot of self-control not to spend the whole lot at once. He had to keep reminding himself that he had five years to go at Hogwarts, and how it would feel to ask the Dursleys for money for spellbooks, to stop himself from buying a handsome set of solid gold Gobstones. He was sorely tempted, too, by the perfect, moving model of the galaxy in a large glass ball, which would have meant he never had to take another Astronomy lesson. But the thing that tested Harry’s resolution most appeared in his favorite shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, a week after he’d arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. 

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Harry edged his way inside and squeezed in among the excited witches and wizards until he glimpsed a newly erected podium, on which was mounted the most magnificent broom he had ever seen in his life. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“He saw Padfoot! Not me- well, not _me_ , but-”

Remus collapsed onto a nearby rock. “Don’t you think you should have said that first, Siri?” 

“I guess,” came the sheepish reply. “Sorry, Moony.”

Sirius slumped down next to Remus, exhausted from the long day.

“So, Harry- how is he?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads Up:  
> Starting soon, I will be doing my best to post on a schedule- about 1 chapter a week, posted on the weekend.


	5. Diagon Alley

“Just come out — prototype —” a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion. 

  


“It’s the fastest broom in the world, isn’t it, Dad?” squeaked a boy younger than Harry, who was swinging off his father’s arm. 

  


“Irish International Side’s just put in an order for seven of these beauties!” the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. “And they’re favorites for the World Cup!” 

  


A large witch in front of Harry moved, and he was able to read the sign next to the broom:

  


** THE FIREBOLT ** 

  


THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HANDNUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM. PRICE ON REQUEST. 

  


Price on request… Harry didn’t like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost. He had never wanted anything as much in his whole life — but he had never lost a Quidditch match on his Nimbus Two Thousand, and what was the point in emptying his Gringotts vault for the Firebolt, when he had a very good broom already? Harry didn’t ask for the price, but he returned, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt. 

  


“Just come out — prototype —” a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion. 

  


“It’s the fastest broom in the world, isn’t it, Dad?” squeaked a boy younger than Harry, who was swinging off his father’s arm. 

  


“Irish International Side’s just put in an order for seven of these beauties!” the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. “And they’re favorites for the World Cup!” 

  


A large witch in front of Harry moved, and he was able to read the sign next to the broom:

  


** THE FIREBOLT ** 

  


THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HANDNUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM. PRICE ON REQUEST. 

  


Price on request… Harry didn’t like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost. He had never wanted anything as much in his whole life — but he had never lost a Quidditch match on his Nimbus Two Thousand, and what was the point in emptying his Gringotts vault for the Firebolt, when he had a very good broom already? Harry didn’t ask for the price, but he returned, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt. 

  


——————

  


Harry spent the entire morning buying his supplies and schoolbooks. When he emerged from Flourish and Blotts ten minutes later with his new books under his arms, Harry made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, hardly noticing where he was going and bumping into several people.

He tramped up the stairs to his room, went inside, and tipped his books onto his bed. Somebody had been in to tidy; the windows were open and sun was pouring inside. Harry could hear the buses rolling by in the unseen Muggle street behind him and the sound of the invisible crowd below in Diagon Alley. He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the basin.

  


“It can’t have been a death omen,” he told his reflection defiantly. “I was panicking when I saw that thing in Magnolia Crescent... It was probably just a stray dog...”  _ But then again, what were the chances of it being a normal dog? With him around? _

He raised his hand automatically and tried to make his hair lie flat

“You’re fighting a losing battle there, dear,” said his mirror in a wheezy voice.

As the days slipped by, Harry started looking wherever he went for a sign of Ron or Hermione. Plenty of Hogwarts students were arriving in Diagon Alley now, with the start of term so near. Harry met Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, his fellow Gryffindors, in Quality Quidditch Supplies, where they too were ogling the Firebolt. Harry also ran into the real Neville Longbottom outside Flourish and Blotts. Harry didn’t stop to chat; Neville appeared to have mislaid his booklist and was being told off by his very formidable-looking grandmother. Harry hoped she never found out that he’d pretended to be Neville while on the run from the Ministry of Magic.

Harry woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that he would at least meet Ron and Hermione tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express. He got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, and was just wondering where he’d have lunch, when someone yelled his name and he turned.

“Harry! HARRY!”

They were there, both of them, sitting outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor — Ron looking incredibly freckly, Hermione very brown, both waving frantically at him.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Finally!” said Ron, grinning at Harry as he sat down. “We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you’d left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin’s, and —”

“I got all my school stuff last week,” Harry explained. “And how’d you know I’m staying at the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Dad,” said Ron simply.

Mr. Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, would of course have heard the whole story of what had happened to Aunt Marge.

“Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?” said Hermione in a very serious voice.

“I didn’t mean to,” said Harry, while Ron roared with laughter. “I just — lost control.”

  


“It’s not funny, Ron,” said Hermione sharply. “Honestly, I’m amazed Harry wasn’t expelled.”

“So am I,” admitted Harry. “Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested.” He looked at Ron. “Your dad doesn’t know why Fudge let me off, does he?”

“Probably ‘cause it’s you, isn’t it?” shrugged Ron, still chuckling. “Famous Harry Potter and all that. I’d hate to see what the Ministry’d do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they’d have to dig me up first, because Mum would’ve killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King’s Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione’s there as well!”

Hermione nodded, beaming. “Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things.” 

“Excellent!” said Harry happily. “So, have you got all your new books and stuff?”

“Look at this,” said Ron, pulling a long thin box out of a bag and opening it. “Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. And we’ve got all our books —” He pointed at a large bag under his chair. “What about those Monster Books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two.”

“What’s all that, Hermione?” Harry asked, pointing at not one but three bulging bags in the chair next to her.

“Well, I’m taking more new subjects than you, aren’t I,” said Hermione. “Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies —”

“What are you doing Muggle Studies for?” said Ron, rolling his eyes at Harry. “You’re Muggleborn! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!”

“But it’ll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding world's point of view,” said Hermione earnestly.

“Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?” asked Harry, while Ron sniggered. Hermione ignored them.

“I’ve still got ten Galleons,” she said, checking her purse. “It’s my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present.”

“How about a nice book? said Ron innocently.

“No, I don’t think so,” said Hermione composedly. “I really want an owl. I mean, Harry’s got Hedwig and you’ve got Errol —”

“I haven’t,” said Ron. “Errol’s a family owl. All I’ve got is Scabbers.” He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket. “And I want to get him checked over,” he added, placing Scabbers on the table in front of them. “I don’t think Egypt agreed with him.”

Scabbers was looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers. Patches of his fur were missing, and if not for the fact that he was missing a toe, Harry wouldn’t have known it was the same rat. Harry remembered Scabbers had been the  _ absolute laziest rat _ on the planet, but he was extremely nervous. Harry almost expected him to leap off the table and run into the sewers.

“There’s a magical creature shop just over there,” said Harry, who knew Diagon Alley very well by now. “You could see if they’ve got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl.”

So saying, they paid for their ice cream and crossed the street to the Magical Menagerie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys if you have suggestions or ideas I will welcome them
> 
> I have some of the story planned out, but i need to fill in a lot of gaps


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry: I haven't been dropping no eaves, sir, honest-though I heard a good deal about Black and Lupin, and that they want to kill me, but...

Harry stared at the huge, ginger-haired monstrosity Hermione was holding.

“Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!” said Ron.

“He didn’t mean to, did you, Crookshanks?” said Hermione.

“And what about Scabbers?” said Ron, pointing at the lump in his chest pocket. “He needs rest and relaxation! How’s he going to get it with that thing around?”

“That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic,” said Hermione, slapping the small red bottle into Ron’s hand. “And stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what’s the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he’d been in there for ages; no one wanted him.”

“Wonder why,” said Ron sarcastically as they set off toward the Leaky Cauldron.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

They found Mr. Weasley sitting in the bar, reading the Daily Prophet.

“Harry!” he said, smiling as he looked up. “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks,” said Harry as he, Ron, and Hermione joined Mr. Weasley with their shopping.

Mr. Weasley put down his paper, and Harry saw the now familiar pictures of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin staring up at him.

“They still haven’t caught them?” he asked.

“No,” said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely grave. “They’ve pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find them, but no luck so far.”

“Would we get a reward if we caught them?” asked Ron. “It’d be good to get some more money —”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron,” said Mr. Weasley, who on closer inspection looked very strained. “They’re not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It’s the Azkaban guards who’ll get them back, you mark my words.

At that moment Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; the newly elected Head Boy, Percy; and the Weasleys’ youngest child and only girl, Ginny.

Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw him, perhaps because he had saved her life during their previous year at Hogwarts. She went very red and muttered “hello” without looking at him. Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Harry had never met and said, “Harry. How nice to see you.

“Hello, Percy,” said Harry, trying not to laugh.

“I hope you’re well?” said Percy pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor.

“Very well, thanks —”

“Harry!” said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. “Simply splendid to see you, old boy —”

“Marvelous,” said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry’s hand in turn. “Absolutely spiffing.”

Percy scowled.

“That’s enough, now,” said Mrs. Weasley.

“Mum!” said Fred, as though he’d only just spotted her and seizing her hand, too. “How really corking to see you —”

“I said, that’s enough,” said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. “Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you’ve heard our exciting news?” She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy’s chest. “Second Head Boy in the family!” she said, swelling with pride.

“And last,” Fred muttered under his breath.

“I don’t doubt that,” said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. “I notice they haven’t made you two prefects.

“What do we want to be prefects for?” said George, looking revolted at the very idea. “It’d take all the fun out of life.”

Ginny giggled.

“You want to set a better example for your sister!” snapped Mrs. Weasley.

“Ginny’s got other brothers to set her an example, Mother,” said Percy loftily. “I’m going up to change for dinner...” 

He disappeared and George heaved a sigh.

“We tried to shut him in a pyramid,” he told Harry. “But Mum spotted us.” 

\-------------------------------------------------------

Harry made his way downstairs to grab Scabbers’ rat tonic. He was halfway along the passage to the bar, which was now very dark, when he heard another pair of angry voices coming from the parlor. A second later, he recognized them as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. He hesitated, not wanting them to know he’d heard them arguing, when the sound of his own name made him stop, then move closer to the parlor door.

“... makes no sense not to tell him,” Mr. Weasley said heatedly. “Harry’s got a right to know. I’ve tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He’s thirteen years old and —”

“Arthur, the truth would terrify him!” said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. “Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over him? For heaven’s sake, he’s happy not knowing!”

“I don’t want to make him miserable, I want to put him on his guard!” retorted Mr. Weasley. “You know what Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves — they’ve ended up in the Forbidden Forest twice! But Harry can’t do that this year! When I think what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home — If the Knight Bus hadn’t picked him up, I’m prepared to bet he would have been dead and gone before the Ministry found him.”

“But he’s not dead, he’s fine, so what’s the point —”

“Molly, they say Lupin and Black’re mad, and maybe they are, but they were clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and steal one of the guards’ wand while they were at it, and that should have been impossible. Lupin was smart enough to evade the DMLE for almost a decade. It's been three weeks, and no one’s seen hide nor hair of them, and I don’t care what Fudge keeps telling the Daily Prophet, we’re no nearer catching them than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what they’re after —”

“But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts.”

“We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If they can break out of Azkaban, they can break into Hogwarts.”

“But no one’s really sure that they’re after Harry —”

There was a thud on wood, and Harry was sure Mr. Weasley had slammed a hand down on the table.

“Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn’t report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black and Lupin escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black and Lupin had been talking in their sleep for a while. Always the same words: ‘He’s at Hogwarts... he’s at Hogwarts.’ They’re deranged, Molly, and they want Harry dead. If you ask me, they think murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Lupin and Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and they’ve had twelve years alone to brood on that, be it in Azkaban or elsewhere…”

There was a silence. Harry leaned still closer to the door, desperate to hear more.

“Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you’re forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don’t think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore’s Headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?”

“Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn’t happy about it, but he agreed.”

“Not happy? Why shouldn’t he be happy, if they’re there to catch Black and Lupin?”

“Dumbledore isn’t fond of the Azkaban guards,” said Mr. Weasley heavily. “Nor am I, if it comes to that... but when you’re dealing with wizards like Black and Lupin, you sometimes have to join forces with those you’d rather avoid.”

“If they save Harry —”

“– then I will never say another word against them,” said Mr. Weasley wearily. “It’s late, Molly, we’d better go up...” 

Harry heard chairs move. As quietly as he could, he hurried down the passage to the bar and out of sight. The parlor door opened, and a few seconds later footsteps told him that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were climbing the stairs.

The bottle of rat tonic was lying under the table they had sat at earlier. Harry waited until he heard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s bedroom door close, then headed back upstairs with the bottle.

Fred and George were crouching in the shadows on the landing, heaving with laughter as they listened to Percy dismantling his and Ron’s room in search of his badge.

“We’ve got it,” Fred whispered to Harry. “We’ve been improving it.” The badge now read Bighead Boy.

Harry forced a laugh, went to give Ron the rat tonic, then shut himself in his room and lay down on his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter has more Wolfstar and history, i promise


	7. Let Us Cling Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry thinks about what he heard  
> Remus and Sirius and angst  
> The gang gets on the express

“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got a wand,” Remus mused. “Otherwise getting into Diagon would be a lot harder.”

Padfoot trotted alongside, as they made their way to The Leaky Cauldron. Luckily, the glamour on Remus would make sure that no-one there recognized them, and they would be able to get to Gringotts. They had never actually been convicted of anything, so they would be able to access their vaults. It had been hard to decide if they would be better off going to Gringotts at night or during the day--they’d seem more suspicious at night, but were more likely to be seen and recognized during the day, if the glamour wore off. In the end, Sirius had flipped a coin, and they’d ended up here, in the Cauldron late in the night.

They passed through the Caudron and got into the alley without any trouble. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they reached Gringotts. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

So Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were after him. This explained everything. Fudge had been lenient with him because he was so relieved to find him alive. He’d made Harry promise to stay in Diagon Alley where there were plenty of wizards to keep an eye on him. And he was sending two Ministry cars to take them all to the station tomorrow, so that the Weasleys could look after Harry until he was on the train.

Harry lay listening to the muffled shouting next door and wondered why he didn’t feel more scared. Remus Lupin had murdered thirteen people with one curse and Black was probably just as powerful a Dark wizard as Lupin. He had no doubt they were dangerous, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley obviously thought Harry would be panic-stricken if he knew the truth. But Harry happened to agree wholeheartedly with Mrs. Weasley that the safest place on earth was wherever Albus Dumbledore happened to be. Didn’t people always say that Dumbledore was the only person Lord Voldemort had ever been afraid of? Surely Lupin and Black, as Voldemort’s supporters, would be just as wary to go near him?

And then there were these Azkaban guards everyone kept talking about. They seemed to scare most people senseless, and if they were stationed all around the school, their chances of getting inside seemed very remote.

No, all in all, the thing that bothered Harry most was the fact that his chances of visiting Hogsmeade now looked like zero. Nobody would want Harry to leave the safety of the castle until Black and Lupin were caught; in fact, Harry suspected his every move would be carefully watched until the danger had passed. 

He scowled at the dark ceiling. Did they think he couldn’t look after himself? He’d escaped Lord Voldemort three times; he wasn’t completely useless…

Unbidden, the image of the beast in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent crossed his mind. What to do when you know the worst is coming...

“I’m not going to be murdered,” Harry said out loud. “That’s the spirit, dear,” said his mirror sleepily. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus made his way out of the bank, Sirius following as Padfoot. They’d been lucky that no-one was in the lobby when they’d gone in. The goblins didn’t particularly care that they were supposed to be escaped convicts, since neither of them had ever actually been tried. 

Sirius had shifted back to human form, and asked to speak to the goblin in charge of the Black family accounts. The goblin manning the desk hadn’t even blinked an eye at the sight of him, and had simply sent them to meet with the goblin they needed to.  _ All in all, _ Remus mused, _ it could have gone a lot worse. _

As soon as they were out of the Cauldron, they found the nearest corner where they would be hidden from any cameras or people. Once Sirius had shifted back, Remus Apparated them to a series of random locations, finally stopping at their camp in Dartmoor. 

“I think you’d better practice Side-Alongs, Rem,” said Sirius, who looked vaguely green.

“Oh yeah?” Remus threw back. “And who else would have done it? You? You haven’t done side-along with anyone for 12 years, Sirius!”

Sirius sighed. “Never mind, Moons. Why don’t we go over the plan one more time before we turn in?”

Accepting the olive branch, Remus sat down next to Sirius, who pulled out the newspaper that Fudge had given him. 

“Harry’s going to be going to Hogwarts tomorrow,” Sirius stated. “And so will --Peter.”

“We’ll have to get to him somehow,” Remus said. “We can’t go after him at the platform, anyways.”

“Why not? I say we get him as soon as we can!”

“The entire platform is going to be chock-full of students and their families, Siri. How would we find them there? We wouldn’t be able to get onto the train unseen anyways.” 

Sirius groaned. “Why do you  _ always  _ have to be right?”

“Are you sure about that?” Remus’s voice was bitter, ashe stared into the middle distance, very carefully not looking at Sirius. “I’m the one who left you behind that day. I could have just taken you with me Side-Along. But ” -- He hunched over, rubbing at his eyes. -- “I left you, Sirius. It’s my fault you’ve spent over a third of your life in Azkaban, and I can’t ever undo that. You-- you ought to hate me,” Remus’s voice cracked, and he stopped.

Sirius, who’d been listening with wide eyes, leaned over and pulled Remus into a tight embrace. “It’s not your fault, Moony, it never was,” whispered Sirius, fiercely. “I could never hate you.”

They stayed like that for what could have been seconds or hours. Neither of them knew, or cared. Eventually, they drifted off to sleep. Normally, they would have slept and kept watch in shifts, but this one night, they couldn’t bring themselves to care.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tom woke Harry the next morning with his usual toothless grin and a cup of tea. Harry got dressed and was just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.

“The sooner we get on the train, the better,” he said. “At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he’s accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know,” Ron grimaced, “his girlfriend. She’s hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy...”

“I’ve got something to tell you,” Harry began, but they were interrupted by Fred and George, who had looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.

They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she’d made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly.

“What were you saying?” Ron asked Harry as they sat down. 

“Later,” Harry muttered as Percy stormed in.

Harry had no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; they were too busy heaving all their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron’s narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig and Hermes, Percy’s screech owl, perched on top in their cages. A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly.

“It’s all right, Crookshanks,” Hermione cooed through the wickerwork. “I’ll let you out on the train.”

“You won’t,” snapped Ron. “What about poor Scabbers, eh?”

He pointed at his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was curled up in his pocket. Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside. “They’re here,” he said. “Harry, come on.”

Mr. Weasley marched Harry across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet.

“In you get, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street.

Harry got into the back of the car and was shortly joined by Hermione, Ron, and, to Ron’s disgust, Percy.

The journey to King’s Cross was very uneventful compared with Harry’s trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary. though Harry noticed that they could slide through gaps that Uncle Vernon’s new company car certainly couldn’t have managed. They reached King’s Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights.

Mr. Weasley kept close to Harry’s elbow all the way into the station.

“Right then,” he said, glancing around them. “Let’s do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I’ll go through first with Harry.”

Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry’s trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at Harry, he leaned casually against the barrier. Harry imitated him. 

In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.

Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry. They were panting and had apparently taken the barrier at a run.

“Ah, there’s Penelope!” said Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Ginny caught Harry’s eye, and they both turned away to hide their laughter as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn’t miss his shiny badge.

Once the remaining Weasleys and Hermione had joined them, Harry and Mr. Weasley led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty. They loaded the trunks onto it, stowed Hedwig and Crookshanks in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, and finally Harry. He was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug.

“Do take care, won’t you Harry?” she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag and said, “I’ve made you all sandwiches. Here you are, Ron... no, they’re not corned beef... Fred? Where’s Fred? Here you are dear...”

“Harry,” said Mr. Weasley quietly, “come over here for a moment.”

He jerked his head towards a pillar, and Harry followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Weasley.

“There’s something I’ve got to tell you before you leave —” said Mr. Weasley in a tense voice.

“It’s all right, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry, “I already know.” “You know? How could you know?”

“I — er — I heard you and Mrs. Weasley talking last night. I couldn’t help hearing,” Harry added quickly. “Sorry —”

“That’s not the way I’d have chosen for you to find out,” said Mr. Weasley looking anxious..

“No — honestly it’s okay. This way, you haven’t broken your word to Fudge and I know what’s going on.” 

“Harry, you must be scared — “

“I’m not,” said Harry sincerely. “Really,” he added, because Mr. Weasley was looking disbelieving. “I’m not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin can’t be worse than Lord Voldemort, can they?”

Mr. Weasley flinched at the sound of the name, but overlooked it.

“Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I’m obviously pleased that you’re not scared, but —”

“Arthur!” called Mrs. Weasley, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. “Arthur, what are you doing? It’s about to go!”

“He’s coming Molly!” said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to Harry and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice, “Listen, I want you to give me your word —”

“ — that I’ll be a good boy and stay in the castle?” said Harry gloomily.

“Not entirely,” said Mr. Weasley, who looked more serious than Harry had ever seen him.

“Harry, swear to me you won’t go looking for Black and Lupin.”

Harry stared, “What!”

There was a loud whistle. Guards were walking along the train, slamming all the doors shut. “Promise me, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, talking more quickly still, “that whatever happens —” “Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?” said Harry blankly.

“Swear to me that whatever you might hear —”

“Arthur, quickly!” cried Mrs. Weasley.

Steam was billowing from the train it had started to move. Harry ran to the compartment door and Ron threw it open and stood back to let him on. They leaned out of the window and waved at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.

“I need to talk to you in private,” Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up speed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the later update  
> this chapter did NOT want to get written.
> 
> If anyone can guess where i got the chapter title   
> i will try to give you a cameo   
> somehow


	8. New Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Constant vigilance!"

“Go away, Ginny,” said Ron. 

“Oh, that’s nice,” said Ginny huffily, and she stalked off.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train.

This had only one occupant, a man sitting next to the window. Harry, Ron, and Hermione checked on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart. 

The stranger had a face unlike any Harry had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man’s eyes that made him frightening. Even though he was looking them over, with one beady eye, the other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye — and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man’s head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

_ He looked rather like a gnarled, old tree _ , Harry thought. As they shuffled in, the man got up and walked out abruptly. As they stared, putting away their trunks, he stood string right back in the doorway. Just when they’d sat down and started to relax, he slammed the door and left with a shout.

“Constant vigilance!”

Ron shook his head, ridding himself of his slack jawed appearance.“No way, it’s Mad-Eye Moody!” Ron hissed.

“Wait,” whispered Hermione at once. “How’d you know that?” She was far too interested to care that Ron knew more about the mystery man than she did.

“He’s one of Dad’s friends,” he replied, earnestly. “Dad really admires him, too. He used to work at the Ministry, but he’s retired now. Bill says half the cells in Azkaban are full because of Mad-Eye.”

“But why would he be here?” Harry asked.

“He’s got to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor,” reasoned Ron. 

They’d already had two Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, both of whom had lasted only one year. There were rumors that the job was jinxed.

They sat in silence for a minute, before Ron spoke up.“Anyway...” he turned to Harry, “what were you going to tell us?”

Harry explained all about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s argument and the warning Mr. Weasley had just given him. When he’d finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. She finally lowered them to say, “Sirius Black and Remus Lupin escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry... you’ll have to be really, really careful. don’t go looking for trouble, Harry...”

“I don’t go looking for trouble,” said Harry, nettled. “Trouble usually finds me.” 

“How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?” said Ron shakily.

They were taking the news worse than Harry had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to be much more frightened of Black and Lupin than he was.

“No one knows how they got out of Azkaban,” said Ron uncomfortably. “No one’s ever done it before. And they were top-security prisoners too.”

“But they’ll catch them, won’t they?” said Hermione earnestly. “I mean, they’ve got all the Muggles looking out for them too...”

Ron snorted derisively. "Come on, Hermione! It took the ministry eight years just to catch leupin, and the only reason they were able to get Black was because he didn’t have his wand. With both of them working together…” Ron trailed off. They sat in an uncomfortable silence before being startled by a faint, tinny whistle.

“What’s that noise?” said Ron suddenly.

They looked all around the compartment.

“It’s coming from your trunk, Harry,” said Ron, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack. A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry’s robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Ron’s hand and glowing brilliantly.

“Is that a Sneakoscope?” said Hermione interestedly, standing up for a better look.

“Yeah... mind you, it’s a very cheap one,” Ron said. “It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol’s leg to send it to Harry.”

“Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?” said Hermione shrewdly.

“No! Well... I wasn’t supposed to be using Errol. You know he’s not really up to long journeys... but how else was I supposed to get Harry’s present to him?”

“Stick it back in the trunk,” Harry advised as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, “or it’ll annoy everyone, soon enough”

Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it. Outside, the clouds started to drizzle.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sirius and Remus planned to follow the train tracks north into the Scottish highlands, until they were within sight of Hogsmeade. It would have been faster to Apparate up, but they had decided not to take the risk of being caught by wards the DMLE might have put down. If they followed the train, it would no doubt take them several days. But, they would be at Hogwarts, or near enough, in less than a fortnight. 

After making their way in, Sirius as Padfoot and Remus under a Disillusionment, they settled just outside the entrance to Platform 9 ¾.They had waited for the train to leave, and the families to come out of the platform, and had snuck in when the flood of relatives had begun to thin out enough that they wouldn’t be jostled, and noticed going in the wrong direction. 

Once they were on the platform, they jumped down onto the tracks and followed them out of the station. When they started, they could just barely see the train, already kilometers ahead. They made good time, and by the end of the day, they’d made it past the M25 and had set up camp under a tree next to the tracks. The next morning, they would wake up and continue walking north.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> juggling fics and school is harder than I'd expected, so   
> expect updates about every week and a half, i guess


	9. Danger on the Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OOOOooOOOooooOOooo  
> Dementors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really busy lately. SO this chapter is coming out later than usual  
> I make no promises, but hopefully I should get the next chapter up in about 2 weeks

The day dragged on drearily as the train inched its way towards Hogsmeade Station. The rain continued to fall, getting heavier as the day pressed on. Mid-afternoon, just as it had started to storm, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps outside in the corridor again, and their three least favorite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

“Well, if it isn’t Potty and the Weasel,” Malfoy slid open the compartment door. “I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley,” said Malfoy. “Did your mother die of shock?” 

Ron shot up, knocking Crookshanks’ basket off the bench. Clunking footsteps came down the hall, stopping right behind Malfoy. 

“Nice little gathering we’ve got here, isn’t it?” Moody said.

Crabbe and Goyle, who were advancing into the compartment, froze. Malfoy paled.

“I--Later, Potter.” Malfoy nearly ran out, Crabbe and Goyle hot on his heels. He didn’t even glare. Moody harrumphed and slammed the door shut before continuing down the corridor.

“What was that about?” asked Harry, confused. Malfoy hadn’t even left with a scathing remark, he realized, and this was completely out of the ordinary for him.

Ron slumped back into his seat and grinned. “Moody isn’t someone he’d want to mess with. He nearly sent Malfoy Senior to Azkaban, right at the end of the war.” 

A comfortable silence descended on the compartment. Ron snoozed as Hermione buried her nose in her copy of  _ Lord of the Rings _ . Harry was deep in thought as he mindlessly nibbles at the Bertie Botts’ he’d bought when the trolley lady came around. Eventually, he slipped into sleep as well, and he dreamed of the flying motorcycle again. He’d had the same dream many times before, though this was the first time he had had it since he’d turned 11. The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered and the wind roared.

“We must be nearly there,” said Ron, leaning forward to look at the now completely black window. There was a layer of condensation on the inside of the window, and Ron had to wipe a hole to peer through.

The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.

“Great,” said Ron, getting up and picking his way carefully past Crookshanks to try and see outside.

“I’m starving. I want to get to the feast…”

“We can’t be there yet,” said Hermione, checking her watch.

“So why’re we stopping?”

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.  Harry, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.  The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

“What’s going on?” said Ron’s voice from behind Harry.

“Ouch!” gasped Hermione. “Ron, that was my foot!”

Harry felt his way back to his seat.

“D’you think we’ve broken down?”

“Dunno…”

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean  on the window again and peering out. The squeaking was jarringly loud in the total silence that had fallen.

“There’s something moving out there,” Ron said, voice shaking. “I think people are coming aboard…”

The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Harry’s legs.

“Sorry! D’you know what’s going on? Ouch! Sorry —”

“Hullo, Neville,” said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.

“Harry? Is that you? What’s happening?”

“No idea! Sit down —”

There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.

“I’m going to go and ask the driver what’s going on,” came Hermione’s voice. Harry felt her  pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.

“Who’s that?”

“Who’s that?”

“Ginny?”

“Hermione?”

“What are you doing?”

“I was looking for Ron —”

“Come in and sit down —”

“Not here!” said Harry hurriedly. “I’m here!”

“Ouch!” said Neville.

“D’you reckon we’re allowed to use our wands on the Express?” asked Ron.

“Ron, no, of course not!” Hermione said. “Imagine all the things Fred and George would do if they could!”

“I think,” said Harry grimly, “That we’re going to have to break that rule. Lumos!”

As the compartment lit up, none of them spoke. They looked around anxiously as they huddled in the middle of the space. A cold feeling crept into the compartment. The light from Harry’s wand flickered. Suddenly, a shadow appeared in front of the door.

The door slid slowly open. Standing in the doorway, briefly illuminated by the flickering light, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry’s eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. 

There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water… But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry’s gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak. And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. 

An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart… Harry’s eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn’t see. He was drowning in it. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder…

And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn’t… a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him — 

“Harry! Harry! Are you all right?” 

Someone was slapping his face. 

“W-what?” Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking — the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. He seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to him, and above them he could see Neville and Professor Moody watching. Harry felt very sick; when he put up his hand to push his glasses back on, he felt cold sweat on his face. Ron and Hermione heaved him back onto his seat.

“Are you okay?” Ron asked nervously. 

“Yeah,” said Harry, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. “What happened? Where’s that — that thing? Who screamed?” 

“No one screamed,” said Ron, more nervously still. 

Harry looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville looked back at him, both very pale. “But I heard screaming —” 

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Moody was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at their startled faces. “First rule,” he said, “Never not pay attention to your surroundings. Constant Vigilance!” He handed him a particularly large piece. “Eat it. It’ll help.” Harry took the chocolate but didn’t eat it. Moody was handing out more chocolate to everyone. “What was that thing?” he asked Moody. “A Dementor,” he said. “One of the Dementors of Azkaban.” 


	10. A Beginning and an End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a checkup on Harry and co, lets take a trip back a few years >:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its been almost a month. I'm sorry.  
> Here's a new, mostly original chapter to make up for it, though!

Are you sure you’re okay, Harry?” said Hermione, watching Harry anxiously. 

“What-what happened?” asked Harry, wiping more sweat off his face. 

“Well — that thing — the Dementor — stood there and looked around. I mean, I think it did, I couldn’t see its face — and you — you —”

“I thought you were having a fit or something,” said Ron, who still looked scared. “You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching —” 

“And Professor Moody ran in between us and the Dementor, and he pointed his wand at it,” said Hermione, “and he said, ‘None of us is hiding Sirius Black or Remus Lupin under our cloaks. Get out.’ But the Dementor didn’t move, so he muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…” 

“It was horrible,” said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. “Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?” 

“I felt weird,” said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. “Like I’d never be cheerful again…”

————————————————————————

Tonight is the new moon. 

Sirius knew this because of his tattoo. It cycled, changing its appearance along with the moon, and today it was no more than a dark circle on his chest. It is also the only way he has kept track of time in Azkaban at all. Spending half of the day as Padfoot and all of it in a cell, in the presence of the Dementors isn’t very conducive to keeping track of time. He knew it had been many, many moons. He had seen a newspaper some moons ago. It was from 1985. Who knew what the date was now. 

Sirius shivered and brought his legs closer to his chest, curling up even more than before. Curled up in his corner, he couldn’t see the little patch of sky visible through the tiny window in the cell across from him. There was no moon tonight, and there was no light besides a single, flickering torch far down the corridor. If he stared long enough at the flickering shadows, Sirius could almost pretend he was in the Gryffindor Common room. 

The light sputtered out, and a new chill descended upon his cell as a Dementor floated slowly by. He pressed himself further into the corner, even though he knew it would do absolutely nothing for him. There was nothing he could do about the dementors. They were a part of his existence now. 

The shadows pressed in, as the dementor stopped outside the bars of his cell.  _ It was you,  _ they whispered.  _ It’s your fault they’re dead. You’re guilty, you never should have made the switch. _

_ Your fault, _ they hissed, _ that Remus is a wanted man. Your fault that Harry has no family.  _

_ Your fault. _

Suddenly, the dark receded, and the Dementors’ chill disappeared. Sirius looked up to see the silver mist of a Patronus herding the Demontrs away. The door at the end of the corridor slammed, and--

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus John Lupin is a wanted man. 

It has been almost nine years since he lost everything.

Years of living on the run have not been kind to him. 

Remus is still shy of his 30th birthday. 

He looks at least 15 years older, and if you met him, you would think he seemed more tired, more jaded, and he has more regrets, more  _ I-should-have _ ’s than the average man twice his age.

He hasn’t gotten any less intelligent, or smart. 

That doesn’t mean he escapes the force sent after him this time. It only means he puts up a fight and that he is more than a match for the normal force of 10 or so Aurors. 

They send almost 20. The Ministry of Magic is frustrated, and Minister Fudge has ordered the DMLE to take as many as they can to go after Lupin tonight. They will take no more chances. He has escaped too many times. Some would say that his luck finally ran dry.

Remus Lupin  _ almost _ makes it. He  _ almost  _ gets away _. _

In the end, the  _ almost  _ is a very small margin. It’s not enough to prevent his capture and arrest, for a crime he never committed.

As they Portkey back to the DMLE, bringing with them an unconscious and restrained Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody cannot shake the feeling that something is not right. He dismisses it. Of course, something is not right-- the knowledge that Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had turned traitor had never really sat right with him. He scowled. This was why it never helped anyone to get attached to people. You would never really be able to accept hard truths about them. He does not know he is right. He will not know that his instincts were right, not for several more years. 

The Aurors Disapparate, taking with them an unconscious Remus Lupin who has finally been apprehended after almost 8 years.

Tonight is the new moon. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

\--the guards drag someone through the doorway. At first, Sirius is not interested at all. He’d like to stay as far away from the Dementor escort they’ve got as he can,  _ thank you very much _ . But something in his head is  _ screaming _ at him to _ go, get up-- _

And it’s  _ Remus  _ they’re hauling in, and without knowing how, Sirius is suddenly at the door of his cell, grabbing at the bars. He hauls himself up, ignoring the frantic screaming in the back of his head. 

They have Remus. 

No.

_ No. _

_ This isn’t happening,  _ he thinks desperately.  _ It’s the Dementors, this isn’t real, it  _ **_can’t_ ** _ be real. They can’t have him. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s not like me.  _

One of them is watching Remus’s unconscious body like a hawk, while the rest of them refresh the wards on the empty cell across from him. When they’d thrown him in here, they’d set up the wards on the opposite cell. They hadn’t told him, and he hadn’t asked, but they knew very well what the empty cell was for. 

Remus is floating unconscious in the air, and Sirius must manage a croak, because one of the guards turns to study him for a moment before going back to his work. 

In the end, all he can do is sit and watch. If nothing else, he’ll be there when Remus recovers from the spell keeping him down. 

They float Remus into the cell, and the bars close back up. The guards leave in silence. 

Sensing new prey, Dementors float into their corridor to swarm around the cells all night long. Sirius knows he’s not going to get much sleep for a while. Shifting back into Padfoot, he curls up in the shadowed corner of his cell, where he can still see Remus through the Dementors and bars between them. 

Padfoot watches. And waits.


	11. Back at Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Harry and co, for a short while.

After Moody left again, the compartment descended into silence. They didn’t talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville’s pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets. “Firs’ years this way!” called a familiar voice. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake. “All right, you three?” Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd. They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Harry could only assume, by an invisible horse, because when they climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession. The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. Harry felt better since the chocolate, but still weak. Ron and Hermione kept looking at him sideways, as though frightened he might collapse again. As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Harry saw two more towering, hooded Dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates. 

The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out. As Harry stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear. 

“You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottorn telling the truth? You actually fainted?” Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry’s way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously. 

“Shove off, Malfoy,” said Ron, whose jaw was clenched. 

“Did you faint as well, Weasley?” said Malfoy loudly. “Did the scary old Dementor frighten you too, Weasley?” 

“Alright, what’s the problem?”

Professor Moody had just gotten out of the next carriage, and was making his way up the steps. Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare,before ultimately deciding to play it safe. Sullen, and with just a bit of fear in his voice, he said, “No, Professor,” then he gestured at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Professor Moody sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter.” Before Harry could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in. Harry felt himself going red in the face. It was bad enough that he’d passed out, or whatever he had done, without everyone making all this fuss. 

“I’m fine,” he said, “I don’t need anything —” 

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” said Madam Pomfrey, ignoring this and bending down to stare closely at him. “I suppose you’ve been doing something dangerous again?” 

“It was a Dementor, Poppy,” said Professor McGonagall. They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly. “Setting Dementors around a school,” she muttered, pushing back Harry’s hair and feeling his forehead. “He won’t be the last one who collapses. Yes, he’s all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate —” 

“I’m not delicate!” said Harry crossly. “Of course you’re not,” said Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking his pulse. 

“What does he need?” said Professor McGonagall crisply. “Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?” 

“I’m fine!” said Harry, jumping up. The thought of what Draco Malfoy would say if he had to go to the hospital wing was torture. 

“Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least,” said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Harry’s eyes. 

“I’ve already had some,” said Harry. “Professor Moody gave me some. He gave it to all of us.” 

“Did he, now?” said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. “We’ve finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies, I suppose. I’m not surprised-- it  _ is _ Alastor, after all. _ ”  _

_ \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ _

“Right,” said Ron as they both opened their books at pages five and six. “What can you see in

mine?”

“A load of soggy brown stuff,” said Harry. The heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making him feel sleepy and stupid.

“Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!” Professor

Trelawney cried through the gloom.

Harry tried to pull himself together.

“Right, you’ve got a crooked sort of cross…” He consulted Unfogging the Future. “That means you’re going to have ‘trials and suffering’ — sorry about that — but there’s a thing that could be the sun. Hang on… that means ‘great happiness’… so you’re going to suffer but be very happy…”

“You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me,” said Ron, and they both had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.

“My turn…” Ron peered into Harry’s teacup, his forehead wrinkled with effort. “There’s something like a weird rectangle,” he said. “Maybe you’re going to write a really popular book?”

He turned the teacup the other way up.

“But this way it looks like a tower, and that’s…” He scanned his copy of Unfogging the Future. “‘An averted disaster, and revelations.’ Doesn’t seem unusual for you, does it? And there’s a thing here,” he turned the cup again, “that looks like an animal… yeah, if that was its head… it looks like a hippo… no, a sheep…”

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter. “Let me see that, my dear,” she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Harry’s cup from him. Everyone went quiet to watch.

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

“The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy.”

“But everyone knows that,” said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her.

“Well, they do,” said Hermione. “Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who.”

Harry and Ron stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry’s cup again and continued to turn it.

“The club… an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…”

“I thought that was a tower,” said Ron sheepishly.

“The skull… danger in your path, my dear…”

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

“My dear boy — my poor dear boy — no — it is kinder not to say — no — don’t ask me…”

“What is it, Professor?” said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron’s table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney’s chair to get a good look at Harry’s cup.

“My dear,” Professor Trelawney’s huge eyes opened dramatically, “you have the Grim.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i finally figured out an update schedule-- ill post chapters about every 3 weeks. Might be a few days late or early, but thats a rough estimate :)


End file.
